No Ordinary Day
by jambaby1963
Summary: What starts out as a day filled with frustratin boredom turns into a quest to merely survive as two friends learn the deadly meaning of adventure. Story COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

No Ordinary Day  
  
Summary: What starts out as an ordinary day full of frustrating boredom turns into a day wrought with peril as two friends try to merely survive.  
  
Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien; go figure!  
  
Chapter One  
  
Rain. It seemed as though it had been raining always, though it had been but four weeks. Each day it had rained, sometimes the soft drizzle as fine as mist, other times the large, cold, hard, drops that drenched through clothes in a matter of seconds. Large puddles covered the ground as soil too saturated to absorb more moisture finally refused to allow the water to sink in. Mud was everywhere and still more water dripped from trees, brush, plants, and flowers.  
  
Two faces peered through the glass of the large, ornate window that faced east toward the rising sun. One pale and fair, the other dark and ruddy, both set with stony eyes and frowns.  
  
"It is raining," said one.  
  
"I can see that," replied the other angrily.  
  
Legolas looked at his friend who stood beside him. They had been cooped up for weeks, and at this point, they were ready to do each other bodily harm. Both felt that their nerves had reached a breaking point. Though the elf seemed to find more things to fill his time, both were now unable to find anything to do that they had not already done a hundred times over.  
  
"Would you like to play chess?" suggested Legolas. He was most unused to not doing anything, and needed something to do, if just to keep his hands and mind busy.  
  
"Nay, I do not wish to play chess, I do not wish to read, I do not wish to fletch arrows or sharpen weapons, I do not wish to inventory medical supplies, nor do I wish to tell tales or sing songs. I wish to be free of these walls. I wish to get out of this house!" Estel replied, getting louder and angrier as he spoke.  
  
Legolas had taken several steps backward as his friend's ranting grew louder, a look of disbelief and surprise on his face over Estel's loss of control.  
  
"My goodness, Estel, do try to hold your temper," said Elrond as he walked into the room.  
  
"Father, make it stop. Use Vilya, you must, I cannot stand this any longer," Estel pleaded.  
  
"Nay, you know I cannot Estel. That would be an abuse to the power of Vilya, it would be wrong," replied the elf lord, a look of concern on his face. He knew his son was not accustomed to this forced inactivity, and he had tried to help him by finding things for both of them to do.  
  
"This boredom is making me crazy! I do not know how much longer I can stand it without doing harm to someone," he turned to face Legolas, "I am sorry to have raised my voice to you, mellon, I did not mean to."  
  
"Look, Estel. The sky is not so dark as yesterday, and the rain is not so hard. I think the rain will stop, or at least not be so hard," Legolas stood to face Elrond, "perhaps we can go for a walk?" Legolas knew Elrond was hesitant for Estel to go out in the rain, as he was prone to illness, being a human. Several months ago, he had had a bout of pneumonia, and it had taken many weeks to recover his strength.  
  
Elrond looked at them both. Although he worried for his son and did not wish for him to become ill again, he knew he needed to get out. Slowly nodding, he replied brightly, "Aye, a fine idea," he had to grab at his sons sleeve as both elf and human made to dart from the room, "dress warmly, Estel. I do not wish for you to become ill," he whispered with concerned eyes. Estel nodded in reply, and followed his friend quickly up the stairs to their chambers.  
  
He quickly changed into a heavier tunic and pants, grabbed his sword belt and tucked his dagger into his boot. He met Legolas in the hall and both took heavy cloaks from the pegs on the walls, fastening them with silver clasps. Elrond met them at the door. He held out a small pack that contained food and a small medical kit.  
  
"Be careful, nin ion. Be home before dark."  
  
Estel and Legolas headed through the door into the courtyard. They walked quickly through the front gardens; a fine mist filled the air and everything in the garden was drenched and dripping. Neither cared, however. They were both too glad to be free from the confines of the Last Homely House to care.  
  
"Where shall we go?" asked Legolas as he followed Estel along the path, leaping lightly over a fallen log.  
  
"I do not care, as long as we go!" Estel replied with a smile in his voice.  
  
They entered the forest where the canopy of branches above stopped nearly all the rain from reaching them. Still it was incredibly wet and it seemed as if mist sprang from the ground as well as the sky.  
  
They walked on in silence for an hour, picking their way carefully along the path. The ground was wet and muddy, and in several places, Estel managed to sink into it up to his ankle. Even Legolas sunk into the muck in many places, though he weighed considerably less than the ranger. After the first hour, both were wet and mud covered, but neither cared.  
  
The amount of rain that had fallen, along with several severe storms, had done quite a bit of damage in the forest. Large and small trees had fallen, their root systems too overloaded with moisture, the ground too wet and soggy to sustain them. This mostly occurred along small ledges and cliffs, where the trees had leaned too far to one side, compromising the support of their roots. Large branches that had become too waterlogged and had fallen also blocked their path in several places. But this was something to occupy their time, and the two friends found themselves working as they went along to clear the path. After a league or so, both were drenched nearly to the skin, their wet hair plastered to their wet faces. They were dirty and scratched, but extremely happy.  
  
"I wonder how high the river has become?" said Estel as they sat under an overhang of rocks, eating a small snack of fruit.  
  
"Let us find out," replied Legolas as he rose, brushing his hands on his leggings and hoisting the pack onto his shoulder.  
  
They headed toward the River Bruinen that flowed through Rivendell and into the Misty Mountains beyond. They had not walked more than a half league before Legolas detected the faint footfalls of a creature nearby. The noise increased as more creatures joined the first, and Legolas was sure it the light foot steps of wolves that he heard. He pulled his bow from his back and reached for Estel's sleeve, stopping the human before saying, "Estel, I hear." but he was cut off by the fearsome sound of howling nearby.  
  
Estel's eyes grew wide, and he pulled his sword as Legolas pulled an arrow from his quiver. Legolas looked around, but still could not see any of the creatures that he could hear so close by. The wood was thick here, and the cloud filled sky added to the shadow that filled the forest, making it seem more like twilight than the middle of the day.  
  
"This way," stated Estel as he pulled Legolas forward. They headed on up the path swiftly, moving quickly over the trees in their way and skirting around puddles of mud and water. Branches reached out along the path, tearing at skin and clothing as they sped by. Estel knew the path they were on led to a high cliff edge that ran along the river, but it then turned to the sides, running from there both upstream and down. The path that headed downstream led back to the house and grounds of his father, and he knew it was patrolled by his father's guards.  
  
"How many can you sense?" he asked with a worried tone to his voice.  
  
"At least a dozen, if not more. We cannot outrun them, Estel. They are too swift." Legolas' voice was also filled with concern. Neither was afraid to fight, but they were clearly outnumbered. Wolves could be cunning and they were better suited to attack and fight in the deep woods. Legolas thought they should take to the trees, but he knew Estel was not as proficient a climber as he, and the rain had made everything slippery. It was too great a risk, and he would not leave his friend on the ground to face this danger alone. There only hope was to meet up with the patrols or get closer to the house where there was more noise and light.  
  
They reached the end of the path where it branched out to run along the river when a large white wolf jumped out into the path, just at their heels. The lone wolf was quickly joined by two others, and the rest of the pack ran along as well, though deeper in the trees on both sides of the path. They made no sound as they moved through the forest.  
  
Suddenly, Legolas felt a heavy weight on his back as the first wolf made his attack. He felt fangs bite into the flesh at his left shoulder, through both his cloak and tunic, and he gasped in pain. He stumbled forward, unintentionally pushing Estel forward. He landed hard, the impact jarring through his body and he felt the wolf reluctantly let go of his shoulder, tearing skin and muscle. His bow flew from his hands upon impact, and the arrow he had been holding skittered away. He bit back a cry of pain, and tilted his head up just in time to see Estel teetering on the edge of the path, arms windmilling in the air in a desperate attempt for balance, and then disappearing from sight as he went over the edge. 


	2. No Ordinary Day Chapter Two

No Ordinary Day  
  
Summary: What starts out as an ordinary day full of frustrating boredom turns into a day wrought with peril as two friends try to merely survive.  
  
Disclaimer: I am not Tolkien; go figure!  
  
Chapter Two  
  
"Estel.," he cried out in a husky, pain-filled voice. But he had no time to even think of his friend as he sensed the other wolves enter this widened part of the path. The wolf at his back once again bit into his hurting left shoulder, growling in his ear and jerking him back to reality as he realized his desperate situation. He was alone to face the entire pack.  
  
He struggled to pull his knees underneath his body, and drew his arms under as well. With effort, he was able to throw the wolf off his back. It landed hard and was momentarily stunned, giving Legolas enough time to pick himself up and turn to face the pack. His right hand pressed into the bleeding wound on his left shoulder, and he grimaced in pain.  
  
Most of the wolves circled around the dominant white male who had made the first attack and the elf that stood swaying, trying to clear his head from the pain that clouded his senses. His bow lay several feet away, and would be of no use here anyway, the beasts were much too close. He quickly drew both his knives from his back instead, the movement causing the pain in his shoulder to flair. None of the other wolves would dare attack this single being unless something was to happen to the alpha male. The large wolf growled at the elf and then turned and barked and nipped at one of the other wolves that had drawn too near. This gave Legolas a moment to take a much needed deep breath. The alpha male then bared its teeth, and hunched it's body down in preparation for another attack. Legolas widened his stance and held his knives defensively in front.  
  
The attack came quickly, the large white wolf launched at the elf, snarling. Legolas crossed his knives in front just an instant before the wolf struck, then swiftly uncrossed them, slicing open the neck of the wolf. Warm blood sprayed everywhere, soaking his skin and clothing. Legolas reached up to wipe it from his eyes, as the large wolf fell with a thud at his feet, dead.  
  
It took several moments, but once they realized their leader had fallen, the remainder of the wolf pack erupted into chaos. Legolas was momentarily stunned as he watched several other wolves advance on him, while others snarled and nipped at each other, already in a contest to claim the leaders spot. Legolas was hunched over, hands upon his knees, trying to control his breathing.  
  
Two wolves stopped a meter in front of him, baring their teeth and growling. Saliva dripped from their mouths and now they took on an attack stance.  
  
Legolas took a step backwards and felt his heel hit the roots of a large tree. He glanced up quickly, spying several low branches that would be easy to reach. Without another thought and ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he quickly sheathed one of his knifes, and then jumped up, arms raised, to catch one of the overhead branches, a mere meter above his head. The wolves, aware of the sudden movement of their intended prey, launched their own attack a second later.  
  
His hands circled the branch, his grip was tight, and he began to pull his body up when he felt a searing, hot pain enclose his left calf. He looked down and saw the body of a grey wolf hanging in mid-air, its teeth sunk into his calf, and felt its weight pulling at him. His shoulder screamed in protest at the strain and his calf was burning with pain and pressure. An instant later, he felt more weight as another of the wolves bit down on his cloak then began backing up, tugging on the cloth. The combined weight was too much, and he felt his hands slip as his grip failed.  
  
He grasped futilely in an attempt to retain his position, kicking out with his free leg at the creature with his calf in its teeth, when yet another wolf clamped its jaws around the back of his left heel. Pain raced up his leg, and he cried out in surprise and shock. The weight was finally too much and he felt his hands slip free.  
  
He hit the ground hard on his stomach, the wind knocked out of his lungs. He could feel wet sticky blood running along his shoulder and back, soaking his tunic, as well as down his leg and ankle, soaking his leggings before filling his boot. The wolf that held his heel wrestled his leg, pulling the soft leather boot from his foot. The other wolves lost their grip on him when he fell and rolled back to their feet quickly, seemingly unharmed.  
  
Legolas managed to get his legs underneath himself as he gasped to return air to his lungs, and he turned to his attackers. He took a faulty step backwards, his left leg nearly buckling as he could barely support his own weight. The three wolves advanced a step as well. The other wolves were nearby, circling menacingly, growling and snapping at each other.  
  
Legolas had no time to pull his other knife before the closest of the three wolves leapt at him. He slashed downward, his movement clumsy as he was off balance, and he caught the creature across the forelegs, a deep, biting cut. The wolf went down whimpering and unable to stand. The second wolf flew at Legolas too quickly for him to adjust his stance and he felt teeth latch down on his now exposed right forearm. The last attacking wolf landed on him a second later, and he fell backward into the tree, striking his head soundly against the trunk.  
  
Stars swam before his eyes, and he shook his head to clear them away. He was dizzy from pain and loss of blood, and he struggled helplessly under the weight of the two wolves. His long knife was pinned to the ground by the wolf that held his arm in its teeth, and he was unable to defend himself. He swung his left arm up and down, and caught the last wolf across its sensitive nose. The wolf backed away momentarily, stunned by his blow.  
  
The wolf that held his arm shook its head, his arm still tight in its teeth. A new wave of pain lanced through his body as he felt teeth hit bone. He reached desperately for the small knife in his boot. His hand groped along the ground, and he tried to draw his leg up. He felt fingertips brushed along the hilt, and he leaned upward to try to reach it. His hand circled around and he pulled the knife from his boot; a second later, he buried it to it's hilt in the soft neck of the wolf.  
  
The wolf yelped and pulled away, tearing the flesh from his arm as its grip broke. It fell on top of him, dead. Legolas pushed up with his good leg and hoisted the body of the wolf off his chest. He struggled to his feet once again, grasping at the tree as his vision swam dangerously. He was dizzy and nauseous, and his body ached fiercely. He looked on the remaining wolves, then thought of Estel, his first chance to do so. He prayed that his friend had not been injured too badly in his fall.  
  
The attack had not lasted for more than a few minutes, yet he felt as though he had been battling the beasts for hours.  
  
He was pulled from his thoughts as yet another wolf flew at him from the side, knocking the dagger from his hand. He slashed at the wolf with his long knife as he felt the wolf bury its teeth into his side, tearing his tunic. The wolf released its grip slightly, than clamped back down again before Legolas stabbed downward with the knife, burying it partway into the creatures skull. He slid slowly down the trunk of the tree, the wolf's weight bringing him to the ground. Even in death, the wolf did not relent, its teeth still sunk into the elf's flesh. Legolas was forced to pry the teeth back, blood spurting from the gashes in his side. He pushed the wolf's body away with his feet, and it landed with a thud among the wolves that remained.  
  
The smell of so much blood and confusion over being leaderless and without direction sent several of the others wolves upon each other. They were not vying for dominance; they were simply giving in to their bloodlust. They had not forgotten the elf, and several growled menacingly at him as they circled, just out of reach of the sharp knife. Legolas rose and stumbled forward, retrieving his dagger from the ground. He stood back up, still hunched over his wounded side.  
  
The wolves continued to circle and Legolas grew more and more dizzy as he continued to lose blood. He was distracted and his head spun as he turned to watch several pairs of wolves fighting with each other. Teeth bit and claws scratched, and one pair tumbled too close to the elf, knocking him off his feet. The continued their vicious battle, growling and barking madly, the elf nearly between them, and Legolas pushed and stabbed out with his knife, drawing blood and causing injury. Their teeth and claws scratched at him, drawing blood from various places, and at last he collapsed to the ground, too weak to stand. He remained wary and upright, however, and any other wolf that dared get close enough was rewarded with a slash from his deadly sharp knife.  
  
Several of the wolves limped away injured, no longer interested in the elf. The order of the pack was disrupted, and a new leader needed to emerge. Most of the secondary wolves were too involved in their own fights to take a stand or to group the remaining wolves together. Legolas sat on the ground, the rain falling into his eyes, his head spinning, as he watched the wolves slowly leave. Only seven of the original pack remained, three lay on the ground dead, and at least five had run off.  
  
Legolas remained where he was for several seconds, unable to believe he still lived. His thoughts came back to Estel, and he struggled to rise, using the tree beside him to haul himself up. He was dizzy and he swayed on his feet. For several seconds he leaned against the tree, his forehead against the smooth bark, his mind reaching for the strength he knew the tree contained.  
  
He pushed away and staggered to the edge of the path and looked out over to the river below. Over the edge the ground sloped for many meters before it simply dropped off. There was no sign of Estel. Behind him, he heard the movements of the wolves as they once again began to circle him.  
  
_________________________________________  
  
Estel felt his friend push him from behind, and he was pretty sure what had caused Legolas to stumble and fall into him. Before he even had a chance to try and right himself, he stepped over the edge of the path, where his foot met muddy earth. It slipped out from under him, and he spun his arms in circles as he tried to regain his balance. He was unable to do so, as his other foot slipped as well, and then both feet slid out from underneath his body and he landed hard on his rump. His sword fell from his grasp as he struck the ground and clattered down the slope. He wrenched his head back, and could just make out the sight of Legolas falling beneath the body of the wolf, its teeth sunk into his friend's shoulder, before he slid from sight down the slope.  
  
The entire slope was covered in thick mud and he found himself sliding along at an ever-increasing rate. He flipped onto his side, his hands reaching out to grasp at something to stop his descent. Branches slapped at his face and body drawing blood and tearing his clothes, but he sped by too fast to grab them. He slammed into roots, rocks, and trees, hitting his head, hips, and sides. A gash on his forehead bled into his eye and a small branch sliced his cheek open. The pointed end of a branch that jutted out in the path was too thick to give way as he passed, and it sliced into his upper arm, ripping a gash all the way to his shoulder. He grabbed the wound with his other hand instinctively and could now no longer grab at anything to stop himself. Instead, he tried to dig his heels into the ground to slow himself down, but only managed to twist his ankle badly in the process.  
  
The slope itself was long and it took a full minute to reach the end, but suddenly Estel felt nothing underneath his body as he shot off the edge. He glimpsed the river below before he thrust both arms backward, clawing at anything to now break his fall. His hands met roots, and he grabbed at them. His body jerked to a halt, wrenching his shoulder violently.  
  
He dangled there for several minutes, pulling ragged breaths into his lungs. He struggled to find a foothold so he could pull himself up, but found none. His hands slipped along the roots and he readjusted his grip desperately to keep from falling. The river was at least five meters down, and looking over his shoulder, he could see it's rough, swirling waters rushing past.  
  
Again, he tried to find a spot for his feet, and his hands slipped further. He clawed at the earth trying to find a more stable hold, but still his hands slipped. His entire body was covered in mud. The roots cut into his palms, drawing blood, creating even more slickness to contend with.  
  
He finally reached the end of the roots, there was nothing left to hold, and he slid away. He felt the sensation of falling, his body dropping through the air, before he smacked down into the water. His breath left his lungs from the force of the impact, and he plummeted down several meters to the bottom feet first. The water was filled with rocks and trees, and as he tried to push off from the bottom, he found that his cloak was tangled in the branch of a sunken tree.  
  
He pulled at it in vain. He planted his feet down as he pulled, hoping to tear the cloak away, but it held fast as it was made of good elven cloth. His vision began to swim as he had no more air, and he grabbed at the fastener that held the cloak around his neck. His fingers worked desperately at the cord, and finally it let go and he was free. He pushed up with all the strength he still possessed and seconds later his head broke the surface.  
  
Estel filled his empty lungs with sweet air. Swells of water broke over his head, and he suddenly realized that his situation was still perilous. The river was swollen with four weeks worth of rain, and as he struggled to remain above water he was slammed into flotsam that bounced along with him. He grabbed at rocks and branches, and finally was able to keep hold of the branch of a tree that had fallen down the rain soaked slope and lay halfway across the river.  
  
Estel kicked his feet as he made his way along the branch toward the river's edge. Finally, his feet hit solid ground, and he struggled on until he collapsed on shore, breathing hard. He was wet and cold and he shivered, as he lay there, too tired to rise. He thought briefly of his father, and dreaded to think of what the elf lord's reaction would be to the situation he was in.  
  
Thoughts of Legolas and the wolves on the path above were what finally drove him to his knees. He looked up, trying to locate a way to reach the top. His drop to the river had been far, but had it been dry, he would have been able to find enough hand and foot holds to climb back up. As it was, there was nothing but slick mud and rock, and so he was forced to find a way around.  
  
His body ached as well as his head, and he bled from many scrapes and scratches, but nothing life threatening. His shoulder hurt the worst and he feared it had been dislocated when he grabbed at the roots as he went over the drop. Time would tell, if his fingers became numb or he lost movement in his arm. He would deal with it then. The gash on his arm still bled as well, and his ankle throbbed when he tried to put any weight on it. He spotted his sword lying near the exposed roots of a large tree. Picking it up and re-sheathing it, Estel moved on.  
  
The ranger scrambled over fallen logs and skirted around rocks and the uneven ground as he made his way back to the path as quickly as possible. It took an agonizingly long time, and he was exhausted by the time he reached the higher ground.  
  
He reached the path about a half league from where he had left it. Turning east, he quickly headed down the path to where he hoped his friend was. 


	3. No Ordinary Day Chapter Three

Chapter Three  
  
Elrond looked out over the garden that graced the courtyard. It was just before lunch, and it had begun to rain quite hard. He had tried not to think of Estel out there, getting drenched, and began to think he should have forbidden his son and Legolas from ever leaving the house. In his own defense, he admitted that they probably would have killed each other had they not had some kind of distraction, but he quickly dismissed this thought as his acute elven hearing picked up the sound of howling wolves from several leagues away. He stood rooted to the spot, momentarily frozen in place as he tried to discern from what direction the low mournful sound was coming from.  
  
"Ada?" Elrohir spoke as he entered the room to find his father standing in utmost concentration, eyes closed. Elrond held up one hand to stop his son, and he listened for a few seconds longer.  
  
"Wolves," he stated.  
  
"What?" came the twins reply.  
  
"I hear wolves, far off, near the river."  
  
"Oh?" Elrohir failed to note the significance of this notion.  
  
"Estel and Legolas were heading in that direction when they went for their walk this morning," replied the elf lord, turning toward his son. A look of worry graced his fair features and concern shown in his eyes.  
  
Elrohir turned toward the door, calling to his brother as he went. The second twin appeared, and Elrohir quickly explained the situation to his brother.  
  
"Do you wish us to go after them?"  
  
"Nay," Elrond spoke hesitantly. He longed for the twins to immediately go out and find his foster son and the elven prince, and return them quickly to his halls. He also knew that, should nothing be amiss, his son and the prince would be upset at not having been trusted to take care of themselves.  
  
"Are you sure, ada?"  
  
"Nay, I am not sure. It is probably nothing. I am sure they will be fine," he said, though he did not truly believe it. The twins looked into their father's eyes and sighed.  
  
"I guess it is a fine day to take a walk, brother. What say you to a bit of fresh air?"  
  
"Just do not tell ada. He will be furious if he knew we went out when we should be inside, attending to our studies."  
  
"You are right. Learning of the history of the dwarves of the Grey Mountains is so much more important than." Elrond shook his head as the twins left the room, their voices growing fainter as they headed down the hall.  
  
"Valar, I hope they are safe enough to be angry with me when they get home," thought the elf lord.  
  
The twins headed to a supply room and packed several leather satchels. They included medical supplies, as well as extra clothing and a few blankets. Who knew what shape they'd find Estel and Legolas in. Past experiences told them it was best to be prepared for any situation.  
  
One pack contained food, and both took along their bows, swords, and daggers. The wolves were a very real threat, even if they were not headed in the same direction as their brother and his friend. The border patrols would be notified as well on this little journey.  
  
The ground was too treacherous for horses, so they headed out on foot. Drawing their hoods over their heads, they headed into the forest. The path, though muddy, was easy to follow, and they saw many signs that Estel and the prince had passed this way.  
  
The wolves howled again in the distance, causing the hairs on the back of their necks to stand up, and they picked up their pace.  
  
____________________________________  
  
Estel stumbled and limped along the path, unbelievably tired and sore. He held his arm tightly to his chest, sure that he had dislocated his shoulder, and he did his best not to jar it. He cursed his own weakness and tried to hurry along, but it was like he moved in slow motion.  
  
He was halfway to his destination when he sensed movement ahead and heard the light footfalls of a four legged creature. He ducked just in time into some brush at the side of the path and saw several wolves moving down the path, one of them limping. Its front legs were bloodied, and Estel could see the slash across them both that could only have come from his friend's sharp, elven knife.  
  
The wolves passed, only pausing briefly nearby, smelling the air. Estel stepped out when he was sure they had gone, and made haste once he was back on the path. It took another fifteen minutes to reach his destination, and he gasped when he saw what lay on the ground.  
  
First he spotted the body of a wolf blocking the path. It must have walked here on its own, but was heavily wounded. Its pack companions had finished off the deed started by the elf, and Estel gagged slightly at the sight of the wolf laid open from its throat to its chest. He skirted around the still warm, bleeding body, and entered the small cleared area where the three paths met.  
  
Legolas lay on the ground in the mud, rolled partially on his side. The body of another wolf lay partially across him, his knife still buried in its side. His friend was literally covered in blood, though he was unsure how much belonged to the elf, and how much to the wolves. Three other wolves lay dead on the ground nearby, and he could detect no others moving anywhere around.  
  
He rushed to his friend's side and pushed the heavy body of the dead wolf away. His eyes opened in surprise as Legolas then rolled over and tried to stand. Estel had thought his friend unconscious.  
  
Legolas was not aware of his Estel's presence. He was still in battle mode, his only knife now clutched in his right hand. He could sense the presence of another being nearby, but his senses were so muddled by pain and the confusion brought on by loss of blood that he could not even tell it was his friend. He brought the blade around as he tried to get his feet underneath his body, but in his weakened state, Estel had an easy time stopping the move by simply grabbing his friend's wrist. Legolas gasped in pain as Estel made contact with the torn flesh of his wrist and arm, and Estel quickly released the arm.  
  
"Estel.?" gasped out the elf as he turned to his friend. Legolas face was covered in blood, as was his clothing. Estel reached out for his friend, unsure where to grab him, as he scanned the elf's body and saw the many wounds caused by the wolves. With great relief, Legolas collapsed against Estel, his breathing ragged from pain.  
  
Estel laid Legolas down on the ground, trying to be gentle, but causing him pain all the same. "Ah, Elbereth." he thought as he studied his friends body, and reached out to brush blood encrusted hair from his face. Legolas smiled weakly back at his friend, and closed his eyes against the pain and nausea caused by his wounds.  
  
"Do not go to sleep, you stubborn elf! Wake and tell me you are fine.Legolas?.open your eyes, mellon nin." Estel was distraught, tears threatened to spill from his eyes. Legolas managed to open them part way in response to his friend's pleading voice.  
  
"All right, human, I am awake," the elf replied in a voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Estel's hands found the gaping wound at Legolas shoulder, two large bite marks and torn flesh that was hot had ragged. Legolas' tunic was ripped to reveal a large wound at his side, this one bleeding furiously, and another, deeper wound on his right arm. Estel brushed it lightly, pushing aside the torn fabric of the prince's sleeve to get a better look. Legolas eyes opened wider in alarm as this small movement caused immense pain in a wound that gaped open to show muscle and bone. Estel reached out to stroke his friend's forehead, apologizing softly in soothing elvish words for causing more pain.  
  
Lastly the ranger looked at Legolas' left leg where the legging was torn to reveal two separate wounds, one at his heel and one on his calf. Both still seeped blood, and Estel could see muscle and tendon that ran along the bones in the back of the elf's heel. His face was covered in small scratches, and his clothing was ripped in many more places also caused by the claws and teeth of the wolves.  
  
"My friend, you are a mess." Estel spoke softly. He smiled slightly, but his eyes were full of concern.  
  
"As are you, my friend. How did you manage to get so dirty, human?" Legolas whispered back.  
  
"You know me," he replied with a wry smile, then he turned serious, "my friend, your wounds are very serious." Estel looked around. This was no place to camp, he had not the supplies necessary to even build a fire, even if he could find anything that was dry enough to burn. It had begun to rain harder, though neither elf or man had really noticed this.  
  
Estel gently removed Legolas' cloak and tore it quickly into strips of cloth that he used to bind the elf's wounds to try and slow down some of the bleeding. Legolas hissed in pain at the contact and tightness of the wrapped cloth, especially around his forearm. Estel watched as this wound continued to bleed, quickly soaking through the makeshift bandage, but he could do no more for his friend.  
  
"I must get you home," but as the words left his mouth, he did not even know if that was something he could accomplish. Even if Legolas could walk, they would not get far. He dared not leave him even to go for help. The scent of his blood would draw the wolves back, or worse. They were far enough out from home to a place that wargs and large mountain cats traveled.  
  
Not seeing any other way, Estel nudged his friend, who had once again closed his eyes. "Legolas, I must get you home," was all he said. 


	4. No Ordinary Day Chapter Four

Chapter Four  
  
Legolas opened his eyes and saw two figures swirling before his eyes. Which one was his friend? He wished they would stop moving about so that he could try and tell them apart. He squeezed his eyes shut several times to try forcing the images into one Estel. Estel helped Legolas to sit up, trying not to cause the elf more pain.  
  
"I need your help, mellon nin. You must try to stand. I cannot see any other way." Estel was near panic, yet he tried to make his voice sound comforting and confident.  
  
"Leave me, Estel, I cannot do this." he gasped as his head fell forward onto the ranger's shoulder. His breathing was shallow and fast and Estel could feel his body shaking and trembling.  
  
"Aye, you can, and you must. You are strong. Help me now."  
  
The elf did not move, though Estel knew that his friend was still awake.  
  
"Do not tell me you are too tired? Are you going to let a few overgrown mutts defeat you?" Estel knew he was goading his friend, using unfair tactics, but he was desperate. With his last remaining strength, Legolas picked up his head, glared at his friend, and then struggled to rise. Estel's hands immediately went under his friend's arms, and he pulled him to his feet.  
  
"I do not think that was a very good idea, human," Legolas whispered. His head swam and black spots danced before his eyes, and he swayed on his feet. Estel was off-balanced by his twisted ankle, and both almost fell over as Legolas weight shifted and he leaned heavily against the ranger. Estel stuck out one arm, grabbing at a tree for added support, as his other arm circled around the slim waist of his friend.  
  
"Take a step with me.that's right, good.shift your weight, do not put too much weight on your foot, that's good.another step." Estel repeated over and over as they made their way back down the path. Legolas was barely aware that they were moving, his focus was on trying to stay conscious.  
  
His own energy was failing fast, but from somewhere inside, Estel drew more. Legolas needed him. The elf had lost too much blood, and was going into shock. It was hours back to Rivendell at the rate in which they were traveling, and he was unsure if they would even make it. Yet he had to try, for he knew that Legolas would do the same for him.  
  
The elf's head bobbed against his chest, his body riding to the edge of consciousness before sailing back. He made small noises of pain each time his left leg touched the ground, and Estel kept trying to bear more and more of his weight.  
  
The rain had begun to fall heavier once again, and as it cleaned their faces and clothes of mud and blood, Estel could see even more small scratches appear on his friend. He had one long gash that went from his left eye across his cheek to his jaw. His hands were covered in small scratches and bites, and he could see blood in many places on his clothing where tears indicated even more scratches.  
  
His own face and body burned with the scrapes he had received from his slide down the bank, and his shoulder throbbed mercilessly. But still he kept going, he knew his friends very survival may depend on his strength alone.  
  
They had traveled a league, maybe more, when Estel stumbled over a root that was hidden among leaves in the path. He lost his balance, his weight shifted, and both the ranger and the elf fell hard to the ground. Momentarily dazed, Estel shook his head and detangled his arm from Legolas' waist.  
  
Turning to his friend, he rolled him over onto his back to find that Legolas had lost consciousness, whether from the fall or whether he was already out before that, Estel did not know. Right now, he was too tired and his body hurt too much to continue on the same way. Estel sat up and bent his knees to rest his arms on them. His head hung down, and he ran his hands through his hair in a gesture of frustration. A piercing howl rent the air, and he jerked his head up. Frantic, he leapt to his feet, grabbed Legolas under the arms, and began dragging him down the path.  
  
More howls came, and he sped up, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds as he backed down the path. Several times he lost his footing and landed on his backside, yet he would rise again and continue on. His shoulder was on fire and his fingers were numb. He had lost almost all the feeling in them, yet sheer will kept them wrapped beneath Legolas' arm. In his state of panic and alarm, it sounded as though the wolves were very close by, though in actuality, they were quite far away.  
  
Another agonizing league went by, and the howls of the wolves seemed to drift further away. Estel finally dropped to the ground, shaking with fatigue and relief. Both he and Legolas were so wet and mud covered that the color or their hair and clothing was no longer discernable. Sighing in frustration, Estel pulled Legolas into his arms and scooted them both to the side of the path so that he could rest against a tree.  
  
"Mellon, I am sorry, I do not think I can go on," Estel murmured to the unconscious figure in his arms, his hands reaching up to brush mud from a too pale face. A small tear leaked from his eye and slowly dripped down his cheek, leaving a clear path through the muddy dirt on his face.  
  
He looked up at grey clouds; rain dripping down through the verdant green leaves above him, and a shiver went up his spine. He hugged his friend's body close, his arms wrapped tightly around him, and he began to rock and hum quietly. He lost all track of time as he sat, dazed, trying to figure out what he was going to do.  
  
They had been out now for at least five hours, and Estel fervently hoped that his father would begin to worry enough to send his brothers to look for them. On any other occasion such action by the elf lord would infuriate him, but he found himself praying that his father had taken this action anyway.  
  
A noise down the path brought him to his senses, and he tensed and looked up the trail. Something or someone was coming. Estel slid out from behind Legolas and pulled himself up using branches of the tree. He swayed slightly, suddenly lightheaded, and stood over his friend, ready to defend him if necessary. Feet planted apart, shoulders squared; he listened intently, closing his eyes to focus. He slowly and silently drew his sword.  
  
Estel smiled and opened his eyes when he realized he had heard the sound of one or more elves heading down the path. He hobbled forward several steps to meet them, and was relieved when he saw the faces of his brothers. They spotted him at the same instant and they hurried along when they realized the condition their little brother was in.  
  
Legolas was not yet in sight, and the twins both wondered what had happened to him. When Estel met them on the path, he said nothing. He simply grabbed Elladan's sleeve and pulled him toward Legolas.  
  
"Estel, what has happened?" Elladan noticed the limp, and under the mud that covered his brother, he could see where blood had stained his clothing. Elrohir followed and within a few seconds they had reached the prince.  
  
Estel did not answer, he simply dropped to the ground by Legolas' side, pulling his brother down with him.  
  
"Wolves, brother. He killed many, but their numbers were too great for him to take on alone." he breathed in deeply, then whispered, "I could not help him."  
  
"We must get you both home to father, Estel," the older twin replied, taking in the prince's condition, though now Estel seemed to not be listening. Elladan watched as his youngest brother reached out to brush a strand of muddy blond hair from Legolas' face, and then lean over to rest his head on the prince's chest.  
  
Though they carried some medical supplies with them, neither he nor his brother had the healing skills necessary to treat Legolas. He needed the care of their father.  
  
"Estel." Elrohir shook his brother slightly to try and get his attention, "can you stand, can you walk? Here, little brother, I will help you." Elrohir gently helped Estel to his feet as Elladan picked up the unconscious Legolas. Estel broke his brothers grasp and reached for his friend, but Elrohir firmly took both of his younger brothers hands in his own and when he had his attention said, "Let Elladan help him, you have gotten him this far, you are injured also, we will help you both." His soothing words washed over the young ranger and Estel allowed his brother to help him home.  
  
Estel kept glancing over his shoulder to look back at Elladan as he carried Legolas. He could see the worry in his brother's eyes. As they walked along, Estel told his brothers what had happened, or at least as much as he knew. Legolas would have to fill in the missing pieces when he woke up. 


	5. No Ordinary Day Chapter Five

Chapter Five  
  
Elrond was watching for them, not knowing what to expect. With his youngest son and the Mirkwood prince, he knew he should be ready to anything. Many times Estel and Legolas had returned to him, one or the other injured in some way. He had to remind himself also of the many times they had returned perfectly sound and whole.  
  
He spotted moved through the trees from where he stood on an upper balcony. He turned and headed downstairs and had made it to the courtyard just as his sons and the prince emerged from the forest. All he could tell from first glance was that Legolas was unconscious, and that Estel needed help to walk. His eyes turned questioningly towards his eldest son.  
  
"Wolves, ada," was Elladan's reply.  
  
With a simple nod, Elrond led them through the hall to his healing chambers and instructed Elladan to place Legolas on one of the beds. Elrohir deposited his brother into a chair nearby, knowing he would never persuade him to leave Legolas' side. Elrohir began to help his brother out of his wet, muddy tunic, determined to treat the ranger himself, as his father and older brother treated Legolas. Estel was barely aware of what was going on and he submitted to his brother ministration without thought. He watched with dizzy eyes over Elrohir's shoulder as his father and Elladan undressed his friend.  
  
Elrond was horrified by the extent of Legolas injuries. They seemed to be everywhere, though he was most concerned over the wound on his arm and the one on his side. They were still bleeding slightly, along with many other cuts on his body. The wounds were hot to the touch and many were dirty and muddy.  
  
Legolas winced in pain even though unconscious as they lifted various parts of his body in an attempt to remove his tunic, and finally Elrond and Elladan found it easier and less painful to the prince to simply cut away Legolas' clothing. Elladan left briefly to retrieve water and cloth to wipe away the mud and the blood that seemed to cover the prince's entire body.  
  
Elrond worked, with Elladan's assistance, over the next several hours to staunch the bleeding, clean the wounds, stitch closed the gashes, apply healing herbal ointments, and finally bind each injury with clean cloth. During the entire time he worked the prince remained unconscious, grimacing slightly only when it came to stitching the deep wound on his arm. When he was finally finished, Elladan moved Legolas to a clean bed and covered him lightly with a thin blanket. Legolas was pale and looked far too young and he breathed as if in pain.  
  
It was at this point that Elrohir approached his father. He had helped Estel strip to his undergarments and had cleaned the scratches and scrapes the ranger had received in his slide down the hillside and his consequent fall into the river. Estel sat still in the chair, his eyes locked on Legolas.  
  
"Ada, I need help with Estel. his shoulder is dislocated, and I think his arm also needs stitches," he led his father over to Estel. He looked at his youngest and saw how the human had locked his gaze upon the prince, and Elrond knew Estel was aware of little else.  
  
"Estel! Estel! Look at me, nin ion!" Elrond spoke in a soft, commanding voice that Estel could not help but respond to. His silver-grey eyes locked onto his fathers face.  
  
"Ada.?" Estel suddenly became aware of his brothers and father. He slowly looked from one to the other, finally settling his gaze back on his father. Elrond had been concerned with Estel's apparent confusion, and was relieved to see more awareness in his foster son's eyes now.  
  
"Here, ada, I have prepared something to relax him. It will be painful to reset his shoulder." Elladan handed his father a cup of strong smelling tea.  
  
"Drink this, Estel!" Again, Elrond used a commanding tone, and Estel wordlessly accepted the cup and slowly drained it. After a few moments, the elf lord could sense the change in his son as his pupils began to dilate and his body slumped lower in the chair.  
  
"Estel, we must reset your shoulder." Estel looked up, confused again. He raised his arm, wincing in pain, and attempted to make a fist, but his fingers were numb and felt fat and he could not get them to work properly. He suddenly became aware of the throbbing in his shoulder, and of the many other little twinges and aches throughout his body. In all his worry over Legolas' condition, he had pushed his own pain aside.  
  
"Aye, I am ready." was his response as he looked upon his father, and he closed his eyes and waited.  
  
Elrond gently took hold of Estel's arm at the elbow and wrist as Elladan and Elrohir each grabbed a shoulder. Estel forced himself to relax, it would be too painful otherwise. The tea had helped to relax his muscles and had made him feel a bit drowsy as well. Elrond lifted the arm up, then quickly pulled and twisted, satisfied when he felt and heard the joint 'pop' back into place. Estel grunted in pain, but made no other sound, as he slumped forward, unconscious, and nearly off the chair, only to be caught by Elladan. The elder twin lifted his brother easily and placed him on the bed that was next to Legolas'.  
  
Elrond sat by his son and watched as Elladan stitched up the long gash on Estel's upper arm. By the time he was finished, Estel was coming to. A soft moan escaped his lips and he turned his head toward his father.  
  
"Ada.?"  
  
"Aye, I am here. Does your shoulder feel better, nin ion?"  
  
"I am fine, ada. It aches, but it feels better than before."  
  
Estel tried to sit up, and caught his breath as he put pressure on his injured arm. Elrond helped him adjust his body so he sat comfortably back against the headboard.  
  
"Legolas.?"  
  
"He is grievously hurt, but he will recover. Can you tell me what happened?"  
  
"It was wolves, ada," replied Estel, and he told his father all he knew. "The pack was large, at least a dozen, and after I had fallen, Legolas had to face them alone. It was too much."  
  
Elrond was quiet for several moments. Estel thought he was angry for it seemed as if his father was forever healing them. He was surprised when he saw a small smile light his father's face.  
  
"Are you still bored, nin ion?"  
  
Estel smiled back and replied, "Nay, ada, I am no longer bored. Please do remind me next time how wonderful boredom can actually be!" He looked up as he heard his brother's chuckle.  
  
"Now Estel, I want you to sleep. Your brothers and I will take care of Legolas, so please do not feel as if you must," Elrond smiled knowingly at his youngest son.  
  
Reluctantly, Estel sighed and replied, "Yes ada." He was extremely tired, and he felt his eyelids grow heavy, too heavy to keep open. Elrohir helped him lay back down, and then covered him with a light blanket. There was a fire on the grate nearby and the room was warm and comfortable.  
  
Elrond watched as his son fell quickly asleep. Indeed, boredom could be a well sought after gift after this 'adventure'.  
  
____________________________  
  
Estel woke later in the night to the soft sounds of voices nearby. He propped himself up onto his elbow and looked over towards Legolas' bed. The prince was awake, but the look on his face was of intense pain. His eyes were glazed over with fever, and his uninjured hand gripped at the bed sheets in a reflexive action to the pain. Elrond was leaning over him, changing the bandage on his arm. Estel could see the skin was raw and red, and the arm was swollen, and in the faint light of the fire, it looked worse than it had before. He was about to say something, but did not want to distract his father. Elladan then appeared in the room, carrying a cup from which he helped Legolas to drink.  
  
The prince seemed to relax almost immediately, and a low sigh escaped his lips as Estel watched his eyes glaze over in sleep. Elrond continued treating the prince's arm, glancing up and seeing his son now awake.  
  
"He is feverish, Estel. His arm is infected; the wound was very deep. I do not know if." he trailed off.  
  
"He will recover? Ada, tell me he will recover." Estel was beginning to panic over his father's words and the look in his eyes.  
  
"It is a serious injury, Estel. I believe he will keep his arm, but I do not know how much use he will have from it when it is healed."  
  
"Keep his arm.? What do you mean?" Estel was becoming frantic, and was now trying to rise off the bed. Elrond hurried to his side, and forced him back down.  
  
"The wound is deep Estel, to his bones, the muscle is torn straight through. Infection has set in. If my treatment does not halt the infection, and it reaches the bone, I would."  
  
"What! What would you need to do?"  
  
"In order to save his life, I would need to remove his arm."  
  
"Nay! You cannot. He would rather forfeit his life than lose his arm. You know that ada."  
  
"I will do all I can to keep it from even becoming a choice, Estel. Do not lose hope, nin ion, he is strong," Elrond forced a lightness into his voice that he did not truly feel. He knew what it would mean to Legolas to lose the use of his arm. He would choose death first.  
  
"You are right. He always fights back. He is too stubborn, but for that I am glad." Though his father's words concerned him greatly, he knew how stubborn his friend could be. He also knew great strength lay inside the elf, and with Elrond's help, he would recover.  
  
Elrond smiled. The friendship between his foster son and the prince was strong. He knew Estel would play a vital role in Legolas' recovery. He would need his friend to push him if he was to recover full use of his arm, and he would need the loving care as well should he not.  
  
"Does your shoulder pain you much?" Elrond said, trying to distract his son.  
  
"It is sore, but feels better. Nay, ada, I do not need anything to help me sleep," and he chuckled lightly when his father raised his eyebrows questioningly.  
  
"Sleep than, nin ion," and he reached out to brush the hair from Estel's forehead. He leaned over and placed a light kiss there, and Estel smiled, his eyes half closed. Elrond sat beside him, stroking his hair softly for the several minutes it took the ranger to drift back off to sleep.  
  
"Do you really think Legolas will lose his arm?" inquired Elladan, who had been sitting next to the prince's bed.  
  
"I do not know, it is too soon to tell, though it is a possibility. My concern is that Legolas would choose death should it come to that," the elf lord paused and closed his eyes briefly. "But he is strong, and he is a fighter. With any luck, he will fully recover. That is my prayer."  
  
"Mine as well. Ada you should try to get some sleep. I will stay with them for now, and Elrohir will be here in a few hours time."  
  
Elrond hesitated, but turned to leave, adding, "Send someone for me if Legolas should awaken." 


	6. No Ordinary Day Chapter Six

Chapter Six  
  
When Estel awoke the next day he was still sore and stiff, but eager to be up and out of bed. He glanced at his friend, who still lay sleeping, and then to his brother who sat in a chair beside the bed, reading.  
  
"El.?"  
  
"Estel, how do you fair this morning?"  
  
"I am well. Really, I feel much better," he looked at his brothers doubt filled face. "Has Legolas woken at all?"  
  
"Nay, and his sleep has been peaceful. His fever is down, and ada says that is a sign he is fighting the infection."  
  
"That is good news. Does ada think he will awaken soon?"  
  
"Nay, the draught he was given last night should keep him asleep for most of the day. Ada said if you felt up to it, you could join him for breakfast in the dining room this morning."  
  
"I do, but I wish to bathe first." Though they had cleaned him up as best they could, Estel was still dirty from their ordeal.  
  
"Go ahead, Estel, I will help you with your bandages afterward. Try not to get your stitches too wet."  
  
After his bath and breakfast with his father, Estel returned to the healing chambers to be near Legolas. The elf slept peacefully through most of the day, waking as the sun was beginning to set. He was confused and disoriented at first, but settled down once he realized Estel was with him.  
  
"Estel.?"  
  
"Aye, I am here. Are you in pain? I can get my father if you are."  
  
Legolas did not respond, but the answer was obvious by the expression on his face and the look in his eyes. Estel began to rise, but was stopped by the light pressure he felt on his sleeve.  
  
"Nay, I do not wish to sleep any longer. It is not as bad as before."  
  
"All right. I will not, for now."  
  
Legolas looked into the worried eyes of his friend. He saw something there he did not quite understand. Something was not right, in fact, something felt horribly wrong. His gaze directly meeting the rangers he asked, "Estel, you would tell me if there was something wrong, would you not?"  
  
"I do not know what you mean."  
  
"My arm. Something is not right with it. It is numb inside, and I cannot control my fingers. And last night, before I fell asleep, I heard your father speak of it, though I heard not everything."  
  
"Legolas.," Estel interrupted.  
  
"Nay, Estel, I wish to know. It is not right to keep it from me."  
  
"You are right," he sighed, "The wound is grievous. Ada said the wolf bit right to the bone. Much damage was done. There is infection, also. It immmxss most serious. You are weak from loss of blood and fever. He said that if it does not improve, he will have to." Estel could not finish. He looked at the floor, his hands twisting in his lap in frustration and worry.  
  
"I would rather die than lose my arm," Legolas whispered, "You know that, Estel." He looked into his friends silver eyes.  
  
"Aye, I do." There was silence for several moments.  
  
"But it may not come to that, elfling." Elrond stood in the door. He had been present for most of the conversation between the two friends.  
  
"Last night, you were feverish from the infection. Your body was weak from the loss of blood, but you have begun to heal. Your fever is down, and I believe that is a sign that you have begun to fight the infection. There is hope, yet, but do not be fooled. You took serious injury, and I do not know the extent of the damage. Time will tell." He reached out to feel Legolas forehead and smiled when he found it was much cooler than before.  
  
Legolas smiled back, knowing the elf lord would do all within his power to save his arm.  
  
"Why an infection? Elves are not suppose to be pray to such mortal afflictions? Questioned Estel.  
  
"My guess, and I do not know for certain, was that the wolves bite was poisonous for some reason. Perhaps the wolves were ill. It could also have been due to your numerous injuries, your body was not able to fight off and heal so many wounds," answered Elrond.  
  
Estel and Legolas both nodded, though neither totally understood. Estel did understand that Legolas needed to build back his strength and stamina if he was to have a chance at complete recovery.  
  
"Are you hungry? You have not had anything to eat since yesterday morning."  
  
"Aye, I am."  
  
"I will go to the kitchen and bring something back for you, then. Estel needs to eat as well," responded Elrond, and then turning to his foster son he requested, "Estel, help the prince to sit, I shall return soon."  
  
Estel turned to his friend and helped him to sit and lean against the bed headboard. Legolas paled in pain, but once he was settled, the color returned to his face.  
  
"I guess adventure is not so wonderful, mellon, I think next time, I will just play chess," Legolas stated with a tired smile and partially closed eyes.  
  
"Aye, remind me next time, please, how much I do not like adventure," Estel replied with a sad smile.  
  
________________________________________  
  
Legolas stayed in bed for two more days, and by the time Lord Elrond allowed him up, he was nearly crazy from inactivity. His shoulder was nearly healed as was his side, but he needed a walking stick to help him hobble about due to the injury to his leg. His arm, however, was a different story, and he began to despair over the amount of use he would have once it had healed. Elrond had assured him that it would heal, though the damage had been extensive, and he would have to work to bring it back to full use.  
  
He worked at it, even while he was still restricted to bed, clenching his fist, bending his wrist, and rotating his hand. It pained him greatly, yet felt good at the same time. It also felt clumsy, however, and his fingers felt fat and ungainly.  
  
It had finally stopped raining, and the past two days had been bright and sunny. The ground was beginning to finally dry out, and the level of the river had returned to almost normal.  
  
The first day Elrond had allowed the prince to be out of bed, Estel found him on the terrace that led from the library, gazing out into the forests. He was still attired in his sleep shirt and trousers, and he looked relaxed and serene. His arm rested on the rail, and he was clenching his fingers and moving his hand about, almost without realizing it. Estel had noticed this constant motion, but had said nothing. Elrond had assured him the elf would do no further damage to his arm in this way.  
  
"If you want to strengthen it, you need to do more than just move it around," he stated as he approached.  
  
Legolas turned to him, looked down at his arm, then turned back smiling.  
  
"I guess it just feels better to move it."  
  
"Aye, but my father has told me you need to strengthen the muscles that were torn. Pushing and pulling, applying pressure, that sort of thing. Come, he showed me some exercises you can do."  
  
Days later, Estel found Legolas at the archery field, bow in hand. The ranger did not think Legolas' arm was ready for such a strain, but he said nothing. Elrond had told him that Legolas would know if he had overdone it, they had discussed thoroughly what it would feel like if he strained the muscles or the mending flesh. Legolas had promised to stop at that point, at least long enough for Elrond to examine the arm.  
  
Estel watched from the side as Legolas nocked an arrow and fired quickly. The arrow went wide of the target, embedding in the outside edge of the graduated circles. He heard a definite dwarven curse come from his friend and he wondered where Legolas had picked up this word. Again the elf shot, this arrow did not even hit the target, but silently flew past it. A deep breath from the elf drew his attention and he watched as Legolas dropped his head in frustration.  
  
"Perhaps it is too early to try?" suggested the ranger softly.  
  
Legolas looked at his friend. His first reaction was anger, but when he saw the look of concern, yet absolutely no pity, on his friend's face, he smiled slightly and nodded. Estel knew that Legolas held much pride, and it hurt to have this skill so compromised. He had worked to perfect his archery skills and none in Mirkwood or Rivendell could match him. He watched as Legolas made a fist and flexed his hand around at the wrist, a slight expression of pain on his face.  
  
"Give it a break. Maybe you have overdone it? My father says heat will help. Come, we will see to it at once."  
  
Legolas allowed himself to be led away from the archery fields. He would rest it for this day, but tomorrow he would be back out here again.  
  
Once they had returned to the house, Estel made a poultice of herbs that had been heated and placed it around Legolas' arm. The elf hissed slightly at the initial pain, but then felt the soothing of the penetrating warmth. It eased the ache he felt and made the arm feel relaxed.  
  
"Estel, I thank you for all your help. How are your wounds? I notice you still limp a bit."  
  
"Ada removed the stitches, but yes, my ankle is still tight and sore," he replied, shrugging his shoulders.  
  
"That is well, mellon nin. I am glad."  
  
Estel studied his friend for a moment before replying, "I will be at the archery field early tomorrow. Will you be meeting me there?"  
  
"You know me too well, ranger. Aye, I will be there."  
  
And so it was that Legolas found Estel there. And it was many long days before the elf felt that his skill was back to where it had been before his encounter with the wolves. A small, informal competition was held pitting Legolas against Estel, Elladan, and Elrohir. The prince easily won, much to Estel's delight.  
  
The End 


End file.
